Sing The New Song

If living were a thing that money could buy, the rich would live and the poor would die.~Folksong ‘All My Trials’ (origin unknown)

The changes are upon us but we don’t know
caught in the momentum of I told you so.
Old ways are dying.
Forced-scarcity profiteers are crying.

Listen, you might fret and mourn
sifting cold ashes, quite forlorn
Imagine no possessions, it’s easy
when you’re immersed in creativity.

Meanwhile the news is spinning a false web
designed and fueled to enslave your poor head.
Leave them to their self-created sorrows.
breathing the new air of our tomorrow.

Open your heart to welcome meanings new
wealth and riches arise in front of you.
Information only wants to be free;
As our intentions matter we will see

Flow our natural state, we rise and sing
each note essential, our voices ring.
Reclaiming the ground seized by the elite
we leave no being behind in penury.

We are each other, separate no more
it dawns on us–oh, of course, we share
giving a pleasure to receive. Owning
was an evil plot to deceive.

We’re graceful as only the free can be
unlock each moment with abundance keys.
The plutocratic hoarders cured of greed
We hold each other in our times of need.

Inspired by:Hoist, Momentum Ashes, Graceful, and many songs of freedom. I’m back in the air today, mulling over the chorus for this emerging song, which I’ll record soon!

We’ll Do It In The Street

I’ve been infiltrated by I can’t
which of course means I won’t
and having boundaries is scant
comfort when it means I don’t
complete these tasks. The crux
of the matter is in formation.
Around me are the thousand fucks
I gave yesterday. Causation
is circular: we round the corner
in firm outreach and find
like Little Jack Horner from
childhood nursery rhymes
illogical, misshapen riddles
from beliefs that stick around
even after stringent culling,
our reality so tightly wound.
And I’m sitting in the morning
of this strange town, prompted
and prod and given warning
today the lines of love songs cropped up
and duty done, I’m singing
down the streets, a happy puppy
at my feet, my love so far away
in space and time. Ah, honey,
in my heart you’re still so sweet.

Inspired by: Riddle, Crux, Outreach, Circular and all the many difficulties of incorporating my daily practice in new environs.

Soundcloud recording here.  (With added beats of Nylabone Grinds by my grand-dog-ter at my feet.)

From Darkness To Light

Finally I climb out of my silence
to assuage my housemates.

When I’m well, I warble
and trill like a fucking early morning

songbird, complains the night owl.
Still my caring community joined in

a conspiracy of quiet pulled
like a blanket around my pain.

Alarmed by the sounds of
retching, my pale face

passing by etched in pangs.
These are the sounds of deep

healing, emerging from my dark
passages like a cello sonata

by Shostakovich, the meaning
which is clear from very far

away, but muddled in my
fuzzy mind when I must stay

with cells screaming
for water, doling out small doses

in the hopes that I can reach
out of my self-created parch

the flow that sings me
from the well of balance

dancing again
the high notes fall away

I murmur the lower resonance
of this new musical day.

Inspired by: CommunityAssuage, Conspiracy and Björn‘s prompt at dversepoets to use assonance and consonance in a subtle alliterative touch.  Although I don’t use the word “retire,” it definitely describes my journey into illness.

Soundcloud recording here.

We Lift Them

At five she reminds me
morning comes gently, a kiss
wriggled greeting and so
my spiritual practice becomes
a measured walk along the rain-
drenched city streets. Here
in the island submerged
by the tsunami of Amazon’s
insidious vendition and Google’s
artful manipulation, the trash
along the walk proclaims
allegiance to the holiday
of spending. The taped boxes
ripped, the handsome wrapping
flapping in the stuffed bins.
We exchange our gifts daily:
breath with trees, holding
this wide embrace for
the voiceless beings. Ahead,
a young teen walks his frantic
puppy, lifts a song
in a surprise of depth
and I am moved by his
bold melody, the words indistinct
but clearly we praise together.

Inspired by: Tape, Handsome, Spiritual and Vendition.

Soundcloud recording here.  And the gift of folks like Laykx who give new beats freely and rock my poetry world.


Let in a little more light

There you are, walking in the shadows
every child you meet
lets in a little more light
a little more light.

Frozen and screaming with a prison guard
no wonder you’re so tired
keeping all of this alive
feeling numb inside
so very numb inside.

Look at you now, your heart is finally moving
you’re a little bit scared
the controls you dared
to cage up the bad feelings
all this energy releasing
lets in a little more light
a little more light.

And hey, look at all the inner work you’re doing
shifting in the fault lines
notice everybody breathing
in a little more light
easing all that wheezing in the night.

All that intelligence you tapped in to survive
Hard to convince to open up
finally be alive.

You go down in the darkness
with your heart’s intention
to collect all the pieces
you’ve been missing
just a little more light
a little more light.

Pretty soon you’re beaming
shining the way.
You hear all the things
you’ve never dared to say
spilling into the light
you are shining so bright.

Feeling met
in all those past upsets
Finally paying the childish debt
unfreezing all the energy
and healing me
with just a little more light
a little more light.

Inspired by Uplifting, and a search yesterday for songs to learn in that very vein.  And this song that came to me full-blown (there’s the soundcloud link.) at the break of day.  My creative juices really love this freestyle commitment (every day in December, a rap or a song!)

Running Dishes

He let me know this spooky
dress-up costume Mommy sent
is not for me and so we leave
it in his bag. After all,
I’m going as a poem
in spite of his advice:
poems are not scary!
I grin and scribble more.
Shine a light on family
secrets, spark irate debate
from friends and huffy sighs
from lovers. In between
we sing a little star that
twinkles. He ad libs
verses of the shiny moon-
friend, cows jumping and
a rebel spoon. Sparks
winking in innocuous
rhymes all the time.

Inspired by: Irate, Light, Innocuous, Spooky and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt dress.

Boiling Frogs

I declare a media shutdown, mute
the system volume that blares

and jeopardizes my relationship
to love. Subtle insidious streams

debut as innocence until I scald
accustomed to the boiling. My error

becomes clear when I refuse to hear
the beating drums. To jump, I focus

on world-people (those without bombs
or obscene hoards of cash) kind and

open-hearted. I walk my talk and
greet peace-lovers and child-raisers,

dog-walkers and home-fixers. We
make our way through days informed

by songs of care-takers and meal-makers.
All concerned with the tones that

matter emerging from our heart-
set intentions to evolve.

Inspired by: Debut, Error, Jeopardize and Accustomed.